THERE'S been a murder. It is a sentence to gladden the heart of a Scottish theatrical agent. The words must be spoken in deeply guttural, menacing tones, and it would take a heart of stone not to laugh.

There's been a murder. There is a myth. And that legend in its own prime-time is Taggart, a programme slagged with the ferocity of the abuse aimed at a youth with a plook on his nose at the school disco. Yet it has claims to being the most successful television drama ever.

The evidence? Taggart is the longest-running police drama on television. It started with a three-part serial, Killer, in 1983, and a new series is now being filmed. It will bring the number of episodes to 87 and the body count to more than 100.

Taggart sells to more than 80 countries. It has spawned an Italian derivative. One episode, Violent Delights, attracted 18.3 million viewers. Taggart has won a collection of accolades including the Writers' Guild award for best drama and the Bafta Scotland award for best drama series. Even now, when there are more television channels than programmes to put on them, Taggart routinely chalks up, or gets forensics to chalk around, an audience figure of more than 30-per cent.

It has its own devotees who have formed an appreciation society that now has a convention. Episodes of the show have been released on DVD, with sales ironically healthy given the morbid subject matter.

Incidentally, Taggart sleuths insist the line "There's been a murder" has never been uttered on screen - a small tragedy that is more than compensated for by the programme's gleeful depiction of murder most foul.

"There's been a murder." The passage of the line into water-cooler conversation underlines the ubiquity of all things Taggart. This fascination is based on one inviolable truth:

Taggart is murder. And in that sentence lies the deep ambivalence that Scots hold towards a distinctly Scottish success story. If we are very comfortable with the blood and snotters, we can be a trifle sniffy at the aesthetics. Taggart as a secret pleasure? Guilty as charged, your honour.

If the Hollywood cliche runs that we are all just six degrees of separation from Kevin Bacon, in Scotland we are all just one sombre, stalking step from Taggart. That man in front of you in the line at the cash machine on Sauchiehall Street? Ah yes, he was the deeply suspicious husband of that ill-fated woman in series one. The barman in that pub off Byres Road? Yup, know the face: he was the student who had an unhealthy (but ultimately innocent) interest in cutting up dead bodies.

That dining room in the west end where you had that sickly gazpacho last month? Yes, it was eerily familiar because it was where that lecturer owned up to that dastardly deed. And that face in the mirror? Yup, that is you (and me), the viewer who walks the mean streets of Glasgow where Taggart is indisputably set.

Taggart intervenes on a personal basis. It can be spooky. Meeting a mate of a mate last week in the midst of writing this piece, I casually remarked that his face looked familiar. "I do a bit of work as an extra, " said he. Cue scary music. "Not in Taggart?" I replied. "Yup, been in it as a policeman and a shady character. Both parts involved standing still with my hands folded in front of me, " he said, with photofit smugness.

And then I stumbled on set. Or did I? It was a dark, cold Friday night. I left the office with a resentment that would have killed Moose Malloy. It was deepest Cowcaddens. Suddenly there were lights, cameras and the inaction of what seemed to be a body. Taggart, surely? I was too frightened to ask.

THERE are, of course, more famous intrusions into the slickly homicidal world of Taggart. And this is where the theatrical agents grin. It has starred the usual Scottish suspects of Maureen Beattie, Dorothy Paul, Isla Blair, Bill Barclay, Jimmy Logan, Andrew Keir and James Cosmo, and has been on the screen so long that many actors have played more than one part.

Taggart has also played a role in the stellar international careers of Robert Carlyle, Forbes Masson, Alan Cumming, Siobhan Redmond, Iain Glen, Ken Stott, John Hannah, Dougray Scott and Peter Mullan. There has even been a Connery: Neil. Sean, apparently, has a licence to kill, not to be killt.

Alan Cumming, who played a character called Jamie in the episode Death Call in 1986, says: "I was 21, it was my first year at drama school, and a part in Taggart was the big thing you wanted to get. When I got it I was jumping up and down."

The appearance of such Hollywood and Broadway players as Carlyle and Cumming brings to mind a delicious scenario: could an Oscar night of the future resound with chants of "there's been a murder" as the pink-faced recipient of the Best Actor award pays his dues to Taggart, and his role in it which now sleeps with the fish suppers?

The appeal of Taggart, though, is more elemental than that supplied by any glitzy awards. Its birth as a serial killerwas a deceptively smooth affair. Robert Love, then controller of drama at Scottish Television, wanted to make a story about a Glasgow detective. It was not about art, it was about commercial television. As Love said: "I wanted to find something that the ITV network couldn't refuse: a detective series and a thriller." He approached a writer called Glenn Chandler, and the growling, moaning Taggart was duly born. He took the shape of the lugubrious but oddly lovable MarkMcManus, who played the role until his death in 1994. The opening title song was broadcast with the mewling Maggie Bell reaching such a fever pitch that one could barely hear the protests of the television critics in the London-based broadsheets (though Nancy BanksSmith of the Guardian did much to assist in its

ascent to cult status).

The cameras rolled. There were murders. Taggart and pals solved them. Viewers watched. And so we all happily trudged through the spilt blood. It was, and is, a formula that seems to replicate itself seamlessly. But there is effort.

Executive producer Eric Coulter came on board in 2001 and oversaw the introduction of Matt Burke, played by Alex Norton, as the lead detective. "The curious thing about the programme, " he says, "is that newspapers regularly run polls as to who was the best Taggart - James Macpherson (who played detective Michael Jardine), Alex Norton or Mark McManus. Only Markwas Taggart, of course - but Taggart has become a synonym for the lead detective."

Taggart, then, is a phenomenon not a personality.

Coulter, who has started to oversee the filming of another seven shows, continues: "When I came on board, I kind of took it for granted. I thought initially it was slightly old-fashioned but had deep strengths. There was enough there to build upon - and much there too that we didn't want, or need, to change."

It was always popular, and still is. Viewing figures have remained "very, very good". And the essence of the show? "The whodunit is the most important element. Our challenge is to offer the viewer a set of clues that will lead to the killer. If we made the clues too easy, the viewers would be put off. But if there are not enough clues - well, the viewer can feel cheated. We must achieve that balance for a good show."

Any rules? "The killer must feature on the show, and any red herrings must be part of a trail to the killer. We can't just bring the killer on with five minutes of the show left and introduce him to the viewer then."

There isn't much to change, then. "We toyed with the idea of, say, an avenging father who killed and then was seen walking free. But we decided no, the bad guys always go to jail. There may be blood and gore, but Taggart is a comforting show. The baddies always get caught."

Chris Dolan, a Taggart writer, agrees with this summation, insisting Taggart is a very Scottish, very moral show. "It has this love-hate relationship with Glasgow where it features the beautiful skyline, the university and the west end, but it doesn't shy away from the dirtier, seamier side. It has an almost Calvinist redemption in that the crime is cleaned up. Good ultimately prevails, but ultimately nothing is resolved. Life carries on, death carries on. The team go for a pint knowing that their work is never over.

"It also has some very Scottish traits. There is a great work ethic and a democratic team spirit among the detectives, and there is also a biting humour, particularly when pretension occurs."

It is perhaps best at this point, then, to stop being too pretentious about the show - but two stories tell us a lot about the way different people see it. Chris Dolan remembers sitting in a Glasgow restaurant and watching Mark McManus being approached by two chic French women who asked for his autograph and then enthused about what a sex symbol the wee Scot was in Paris.

The second is darker. It could be apocryphal - but it is true at a deeper, grittier level.

When the pilot of Taggart was first aired, a dapperMcManus sidled into a bar in the west end of Glasgow to watch the show - and, more importantly, to gauge how it was received by the punters. Said worthies spotted the wee man in the corner and, without acknowledging the actor, fired so much bile at the screen it had to be washed during the ad breaks. As a demoralised McManus made his way wearily from the bar, the punters' ringleader piped up. "Jist joshin', wee man. Great show. You wir brilliant."

A grin creased the actor's face and a wave of laughter broke against the gantry. How very Glasgow. How eerily Taggart.

'Glasgow comes over so well on the screen'

TAGGART'S murderous ways have proved oddly seductive over the decades. This appeal culminated in the Taggart Convention, held last year, which will be reprised in 2008, Taggart's 25th birthday.

The woman behind the fanaticism is Jackie Pope, a 30-year-old customs officer who lives in Kent. "The 'fan club' only exists on the internet, and so we don't have members as such, " she explains. "But we have fans contacting us from all over the world, including people in Australia, New Zealand, Canada, the USA, Russia and many countries in Europe.

"There is a forum that runs alongside the website that gives fans the chance to talk about the show, " she adds. It seems the rivalry between fans of DCI Jardine (James Macpherson) and DI Ross (John Michie) is legendary.

Pope has always been a fan of the show. "I've watched Taggart pretty much from the start - it was on while I was growing up. However, I consider myself an 'expert' from 1998 onwards, when John Michie joined the cast."

The attraction is simple: "It has a real sense of identity. I like being able to go to the locations, as do other fans. Plus Glasgow comes over so well on the screen." Visit www. taggart-fanclub. co. uk